


Drabbles from Vegas

by Lightspeed



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Anal Sex, Buffets, Exhibitionism, Gambling, Hand Jobs, Las Vegas, M/M, Poker, Public Hand Jobs, Public Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-25 09:32:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/pseuds/Lightspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tavish and Jane take a trip to Vegas on furlough and get up to a few shenanigans.  Tavish makes bad decisions, indecency laws are broken, and a card game doesn’t look like it will have very good monetary returns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drabbles from Vegas

"I never want tae see another buffet in me life," Tavish groaned, splayed out on the hotel bed. "You Americans eat like ye hate yerselves."

Jane smiled, looking over his shoulder at the supine man, pants unbelted, fly open, lying in an aching heap. The drive had been long enough, and to reward themselves for successfully sneaking away together during their time off, they had visited one of the city's buffets, practically the only place not coated in a thick veneer of sleaze, instead opting for a veneer of grease. Judging by the gluttony-coma Tavish was slipping into, that veneer was just as thick. "You're the one who said you were starvin' when we got into town."

"Never expected that much food! Ach, why did I go and eat like that? I need a few months before I can move again. Go on without me, Janey. I'll only slow ye down."

Laughing, Jane flopped beside his lover, rubbing gentle circles on his belly. The sigh that escaped the Scotsman only had him chuckling harder. "I can get you moving," he teased, hand straying lower.

Quirking an eyebrow and looking down, feeling himself stir under his lover's touch, Tavish grinned. "Aye, that ye can."

 

 

\---------

 

 

Tavish nearly spilled his drink. To the rest of the table, it looked like a jolt of surprise at the hand he'd been dealt, an overt tell from the normally indecipherable Scotsman. His mannerisms, energetic, dramatic, and full of flair, were hard to follow for any sort of clues. His behaviour didn't change from hand to hand, boisterous and chatty, one hand on his cards, the other on the glass of neat whiskey that was his oft-refilled companion for the evening. His other companion, Jane, the man sitting close beside him, was a bit more stoic save for whenever he would chat with his friend, a genuine smile spreading across the man's jutting mouth.

When Tavish jolted, however, the rest of the table took notice. This had to be one hell of a hand, or the worst one he'd ever seen. To make the animated man with the dark skin and the eyepatch flinch, eye going wide, jaw dropping open for a moment, his cards had to be some sort of extreme. A few folds followed, and then a few outrageous bets. The others were taking their chances with what it all meant.

Except Jane. Jane had folded immediately when the hand was dealt, and leaned forward sullenly on one elbow. Nobody noticed that his other hand had disappeared beneath the table. Nobody but Tavish, at least, who was doing his best to hold back rising breaths as his partner's skilled hand, having undone the Scotsman's fly and exposed him to the air, stroked him slowly, trying to get a rise out of the already-risen bomber.

Tavish tried to get his eyes to focus on his hand. He had a pair of aces already, before the flop had even been revealed. This could go very well, or rather mediocre for him, and the rest of the table was ready for a fight. He bit his lip, closing his eye for a moment. It was a show, to look like he was fiercely considering his next action. In reality, he was beginning to lose himself in his partner's calloused hand. He took a gulp. Best to make this hand last.

"Raise."

 

 

\---------

 

 

When the hotel designers had placed a giant, thick, plate-glass window in the lavish, fifth-floor suite the two mercenaries had rented, they probably never imagined that years later, at four in the morning on a warm, breezy Friday night, a scar-covered Midwestern man with a heavy brow and an underbite would be pressed, naked and panting against it, being fucked from behind by a one-eyed Scot with dark skin and a devilish grin. The lights of the city of sin twinkled below, the streets full of people who could, at their leisure and with good eyesight, pick out the sight of Jane being railed against the hotel room window, of Tavish's hands roaming across his hot flesh, tugging at the hard cock that bumped gently against the cool glass with each of the taller man's thrusts.

The thrill of observation, the chance of being caught, only served to fuel both men, running shivers through them in the throes of their furious lovemaking. Theirs was a love they would scream from the rooftop if the world would allow them, a love they would prove with rings and vows, a love they would show in strong hugs and rough kisses and laughter while falling off of bar stools, holding each other up in a mutual, slow failure to balance, rubbing their foreheads and noses together in the shifting of their bodies until the inevitable trip to the floor left them piled together, snickering like children. Instead, furtive glances, secret meetings, and hiding away on furloughs was their lot, dreaming of the day when their otherwise-enjoyable employment was ended and they could spend long, lazy days wrapped in each other's arms in a large bed in a New Mexico mansion without fear of discovery and reprisal.

"I love ye so much, Janey," Tavish whispered, pressing soft kisses to his partner's spine, his thoughts spilling out over his lips with liquid ease. They were true, painfully so, and the words thundered through Jane. The handsome demolitionist was the only person who'd ever spoken that beautiful phrase, and he truly meant it. It made his chest ache, his belly flutter, and his mind reel. Gritting his teeth, he had one other reaction to the softly gasped words, his insides twisting, pelvic floor clenching, his orgasm rocking through him, sending convulsions up and down his body. His groan reverberated off of the glass as he painted it with his seed, shuddering with each of Tavish's continued thrusts.

It wasn't long before the bomber filled his lover, sighing his release into the smaller man, holding him close, showering his neck with kisses. When they came down from their high, Tavish clumsily stepped back, pulling Jane from the window and helping him to the bed. Falling together, they lay where they landed, too tired to bother tangling together.

Tavish was the first to hazard a glance at the window. It was smudged and blurry from Jane's skin, spattered with white slowly dripping down to the sill. A loud snicker escaped his nose and he fell back, laughing.

"What? What is it?"

"Jus' thinkin'. Ye think the blokes who put that window there would'a ever dreamed that it would end up one night covered in come?"

"You think we should leave that for housekeeping?"

 

 

\---------

 

 

"Janey, I think I'm goin' tae die," Tavish moaned.

"It's your own fault, Tav."  
  
"Ye did this tae me, ye bastard!"

"You said you wanted to."

"I say a lot 'o things, ye damn numpty!"

"You shouldn't expect me to be the voice of reason."

"Like I should be? I'm bloody barmier than you!"

"You want some ginger ale or something?"

"No. Just. Please. Don't let me do this again. If I say, 'Let's go to the buffet for dinner! I'm starving!' ye say NO!"

**Author's Note:**

> prompt suggested by your_bro_joe


End file.
